Telvanni Tricks
by QuillsAndThrills
Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. When Neloth takes a wife in the midst of chaos on Solstheim to preserve his ownership of Tel Mithryn, he doesn't expect anything more than a marriage of convenience. Will he end up with more than he bargained for?
1. I - Proposition

I. Proposition

 _Tel Mithryn, Solstheim_

 _Fredas, 1st of Rain's Hand, 4E 201_

The drowsy steward sat hunched over her desk; pen in position over the blank parchment, poised to carry out the will of her Master. The room was illuminated dimly by a dying candle, the wax spilling over the side of the candlestick like thick tears. Unless Varona finished her business soon, she would need to venture out of her mushroom dwelling and into the main tower to retrieve a fresh candle.

Dipping the pen into the inkpot, replenishing the ink on the tip, Varona connected pen to paper.

Her brow furrowed in deep concentration, and her tongue peeked between the corners of her lips as she focused on the task of writing.

The importance of the situation weighed heavily on her mind as her pen strokes halted at the end of the first paragraph, her thoughts lingering on how the contents of the letter would determine if she, and all the other occupants of Tel Mithryn, were to be both homeless and unemployed by the end of the month.

It had only been a matter of time, really, until the Redorans asserted their sovereignty over Solstheim to the infringing Telvanni wizard, but they had all been caught unawares at the abruptness of the impending eviction.

Varona shuddered as the harrowing events of the day flashed through her mind. Master Neloth had been livid, the rage visible in every fibre of his being as Varona read him the missive that had arrived by courier that morning.

Her suspicion that the message delivered was not particularly favourable to the Telvanni wizard was piqued when the courier, a scrawny lad of a nervous disposition, thrust the note in her hand as though it burned him, and could barely wait long enough to receive his dues before he bolted across the ashy ground back to Raven Rock. She knew the rumours that circulated about the Telvanni, in particular about Master Neloth and his… unorthodox, unethical methods, and she could understand why the poor boy wasn't keen on hanging around. Yet, the speed and urgency with which he left stuck her as odd. It was as though Master Neloth held some grudge against him, though Varona knew this was not the case, as Master Neloth never associated himself with the common folk.

Her suspicions increased further as she eyed the wax Redoran seal emblazoned on the letter to protect the contents from prying eyes. As far as Varona was aware, Neloth had no dealings with the Redoran Lords, so there was no good reason as to why they were now trying to communicate with him. Immediately, Varona knew this boded ill.

Dutifully, she took the letter immediately to Neloth, who bade her read it to him with his usual uncaring dismissiveness. With shaky hands, Varona had broken the seal and read the note.

" _To the Telvanni Councillor known as Neloth, former proprietor of Tel Mithryn_

 _We, the Ruling Council of Blacklight in conjunction with the Redoran Lords of Raven Rock are writing to notify you that your presence in Tel Mithryn is in direct violation to the Redoran claim to the ownership of the island of Solstheim and its territories._

 _You are required to surrender possession of your estate, Tel Mithryn, to House Redoran, the sovereigns of the island of Solstheim, and remove yourself hence from its borders permanently._

 _Force will be implimented should you fail to turn over possession of the premises to the First Councillor of Raven Rock, Lleril Morvayn before the end of Rain's Hand._

 _This is your first and only notice. You have 30 days._

 _Signed,_

 _Varyis Mothlyn, Steward of the Ruling Council of Blacklight,_

 _Lleril Morvayn, First Councillor of Raven Rock_

 _Adril Arano, Second Councillor of Raven Rock"_

Fear surged through her like a bolt of Neloth's lightning as he lunged at her with a speed and ferocity that belied his old age, and snatched the letter from the ruling Council from her hand – she had thought that he was going to strike her. His eyes had feverishly poured over the words: once, twice, three times, before he crushed the note in his fist, incinerated it in a flame spell, and hurled the ashes down the levitation tunnel, swearing and cursing House Redoran.

"How dare they!?" He had thundered, clenching his fists so tightly that his long nails punctured his skin. "I am a Master Wizard of House Telvanni! I cannot be thrown out of my tower like yesterday's garbage!"

His lack of concern for her or Talvas or Ulves or Elynea had been annoying, but unsurprising none-the-less. At least Neloth had his citadel in Sadrith Mora, a great, spiralling tower called Tel Naga to return to if the Redoran's were good on their threat. Talvas would likely go with him to finish his apprenticeship, but Varona had nowhere, and she expected that this was the same for Ulves and Elynea as well. They had been in Tel Mithryn since the Red Year, or just after it, which had rendered thousands of Dunmer dispossessed. They had been fortunate enough to find refuge in Tel Mithryn. Even if they were mere staff in Neloth's tower, this was their home too, and their only one at that.

"I can't leave Solstheim with my research only half done! There must be a way to circumvent the Redoran's low cunning, but what?" Neloth muttered furiously to himself, his hand momentarily rubbing his whiskered chin like he did when he considered the results of an experiment.

Varona, too, thought long and hard about the situation. It was hard to believe that the Redorans, who proclaimed the honour and virtuosity of their house were able to consciously make destitute the citizens of Tel Mithryn in the first place. _But_ , Varona conceded, _I suppose that the Councilors have little concern for the common folk, particularly those not of their ilk._ Amongst the myriad of emotions that festered in her chest, Varona couldn't help but feel a little… disappointed in House Redoran. What had happened to civility among houses? What about justice for the common mer?

She knew Redorans, and had ascertained the values of House Redoran through osmosis. Many in Raven Rock would be shocked that their leaders could so ruthlessly snatch land from under the feet of Tel Mithryn's residence. Many more would probably be glad to see the backs of them. Tel Mithryn and Raven Rock were not particularly neighbourly to each other. Never-the-less, the degradation of Redoran principles high up in the hierarchy would cause discomfort to those closer to the roots.

 _Perhaps the solution to our problem comes from within Redoran's values_? Varona wondered.

Redorans valued loyalty and family, two such principles that could be manipulated to preserve the ownership of Tel Mithryn. In her head, Varona formulated a plan that not only prevented their eviction, but also provided secure relations with the rival house in the future. The only issue was that it would undoubted be disagreeable to both parties involved, Telvanni and Redoran. Regardless, if it was the idea that prevented their homelessness, it was worth at least sharing with the cantankerous wizard.

Varona braved the fierce scowl, crossed arms and general unpleasantness of her employer to communicate this to him.

"Master Neloth? I have thought of a… way that you may keep your tower."

"Well? Spit it out then, woman!" Neloth's temper usually dangled on a fraying thread. This fact rang even truer now, and Varona was disinclined to make him even angrier. She hastily divulged the idea.

"You could consider marriage to a Redoran Councillor's daughter."

"That is _entirely_ stupid! You must shut up more often Varona, if you know what's good for you." Neloth spat venomously, his expression darkening with distain.

"B-but Master Neloth, consider the possibilities of such an arrangement! Not only would you keep Tel Mithryn, but you would have a stake in Redoran affairs that concern Telvanni property in the future. A-and Redoran affairs on Solstheim as well!" Varona reasoned, halting the Wizard in his anger. He paused to consider her argument.

The lure of both keeping his lands as well as the potential for more power over his rival Telvanni and Redoran Lords was attractive to him, even if he ended up reluctantly saddled to a Redoran wench. Power, and the gaining of more power were easy bargaining chips to pull out when dealing with stubborn Telvanni mages.

Sensing the root of Neloth's hesitation, Varona pulled her trump card.

"And, if you truly dislike your wife that much, you could divorce her once you return to Vvardenfell and no longer need Tel Mithryn." With that, Varona left the decision to the Master Wizard.

Varona could practically see the gears in Neloth's head churning away, processing every fragment of information and carefully weighing his options. His hand had returned to his chin and Varona wrung her hands in front of her. A pregnant silence filled the room as Neloth deliberated and Varona gazed up at his unreadable expression in hope, until the former hefted a put-upon sigh.

"I assume you have someone in mind…?" Neloth trailed off, his tone akin to resigned, or as resigned as the arrogant mage would ever sound.

In actuality, Varona hadn't thought that far ahead. She had scarcely imagined that Neloth would actually go along with the scheme, and thus she had no further plan. This did, however, bing to light a rather large set-back in the plan: who in their right mind, with enough power and influence to veto the Council's decision, would give their daughter to Master Neloth in matrimony? Sure, there was power and influence to be gained by allying oneself to the most powerful mage in Morrowind, certainly, but at what cost?

As Varona racked her brains she recalled that there was a Councillor, a relative of a friend of hers, called Ravil Indoran, with two daughters and a niece under his care. One of the daughters, the eldest, was married, but perhaps with the right amount of tact and a considerable sum of revenue, he might be convinced to relinquish one of the remaining girls to the old wizard.

As Second Councillor to Blacklight, Ravil was, by all accounts, an elitist, and a hoarder of business contacts and wealth, making him and easy target for bribery, if it came to that. It was rumoured that he coveted the position of First Councillor, and was willing to go to desperate measures to seize the power needed to advance his rank. He might even relinquish one of his family, despicable though it seemed to Varona.

Varona related all this to Neloth, who waved his hand contemptuously.

"Yes, yes. I trust that you can handle all the menial details." After a moment, he added, "Make sure that this girl, whichever one you deem most suitable, is quiet, of sound mind and pleasing to the eye. If I have to marry her, she might as well be to my liking."

He then promptly dismissed her and returned to his experiments as though the interruption had never occurred.

And so now the dubious honour of finding Neloth a bride had fallen upon Varona.

Between reassuring the fears of Talvas, Ulves and Elynea, who had heard the shouting in the tower from various parts of the settlement, and revealing Neloth's impending marriage, much to everyone's shock and horror, the steward had only just found time to sit down, breathe, and compose the proposal.

While there was universal praise for Varona's wit and cunning in developing the whole scheme, Elynea and Ulves hadn't seem too pleased with the upcoming addition to their number. Ulves bemoaned having an extra mouth to feed, probably a picky mouth at that, and Elynea warned emptily that if the girl was anything like her husband, she would pack up and leave Tel Mithryn for good. Talvas was the only one who expressed sympathy.

"Poor girl. I wouldn't wish marriage to Master Neloth on anyone! Suppose he decides to use her in his experiments?"

"Better her than you. Or any of us for that matter." Elynea said curtly. Ulves grunted in agreement.

Elynea continued, "These noble types are all the same: they're all greedy for power and money. If she's anything like Master Neloth, then I'd say she deserves it! Still, Neloth and wife are two words that I never thought would go together in a sentence." She snorted mirthlessly, and Varona had to agree.

When everyone returned to their own corners of the tower to resume their daily routines, Varona returned to her steward's home to compose what would possibly be the hardest letter to write that she had ever written. Everything, from the words on the page down to the quality of parchment and ink used had to be perfect, for nobles were peculiar about such things and found insult in even the tiniest of nuances.

Hours after starting and several drafts later, and the tired steward blew on the drying ink and surveyed her handiwork proudly. The completed missive, appropriately grovelling in lieu of the wizard's salacious history with kidnapped Redoran maidens, praised the beauty and virtues of Ravil Indoran's daughter and niece, which had enticed the wizard to propose marriage to either of the girls.

It was a load of bollocks of course, but with the social, political and financial benefits of being associated with the Mage-Lords of Morrowind that Varona had proposed to Ravil to sweeten the deal, he would be stupid to decline.

She had no idea if either of the girls retained the qualities that Neloth had desired, but beggars can't be choosers, she justified. Besides, it was extremely unlikely that Neloth would be taking the poor woman back to Vvadenfell with him. It was doubtful that the marriage would last more than a decade, a mere blink of the eye in the long lives of elves. In the end, it wouldn't matter.

The only detail that tugged on Varona's conscience was the fact that the poor girl's reputation might be damaged beyond repair by the inevitable divorce. It made her feel a little bit sick to use someone so callously for personal gain only to throw them aside in disgrace once their usefulness has expired, but there was no other option that she could think of.

Satisfied with the missive, she folded it carefully and slotted it in an envelope, and sealed it shut with a wax seal imprinted with the emblem of House Telvanni. She knew there was no need to take the note upstairs to Neloth for his approval, and doing so would only incur the wizard's wrath at being interrupted for the _second_ time that day. Varona prayed that none of them, Neloth or his employees, or the poor Redoran maid whose fate would be determined by the note, would come to regret Varona's scheme later.

Varona hefted a yawn. It was late and her work was done, for now. She rubbed her eyes with one hand as she set the envelope against a stack of books, ready to begin its important journey to Blacklight in the morning. Putting away her ink and pen, and tiredly extracting herself from the uncomfortable wooden chair, Varona snuffed out the candle.


	2. II - Courier

**Heya guys! Quills &Thrills here! So this update took a disgustingly long time. I apologise profusely! Life just got in the way and also, I am lazy. I will try to be better in the future, but don't hold me to that. I intend to finish this story though, even if it kills me.**

 **I forgot to mention before in the first chapter that I write in Australian English, so to American readers, certain words might be spelt incorrectly. We tend to through in 'u's everywhere and change the order of 'e's and 'r's. :P**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I love you guys so much. It was reading all your lovely comment that got my arse in gear and set me writing again. Please continue to point out all the mistakes that I make so that I can improve my work. :)**

 **I really hope you enjoyed this chapter because I deleted and rewrote this baby about 4 times because I wanted to get the characterisation of my leading lady just right. I hope you all like 'the wife'.**

 **Thanks for sticking with me thus far!**

 **Lots of love,**

 **Quills and Thrills**

* * *

II. Courier

 _Blacklight, Morrowind_

 _Middas, 5th of Rain's Hand, 4E 201_

The Indoran Household was in a furore that morning.

Irvsie Indoran awoke to the sounds of discord and disorder in the huge Indoran manor. This was not so unusual; Lord and Lady Indoran, her uncle and aunt, butted heads at regular intervals, however she did find it distressing to know that this particular uproar was caused by her. Or, rather, the Telvanni mage whose eye she had apparently caught.

She stretched her slender limbs and rubbed the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes before rolling out of her bed. Having been born into an affluent family, Irvsie was granted the luxury of spacious accommodations and lavish belongings.

Her entire room was adorned with wall-to-wall rugs made from the softest fabrics imported from Cyrodiil, with a large vanity table with draws to house her jewellery and makeup in one corner, an eclectic range of musical instruments in the other, an attached ensuite, and a walk-in wardrobe so large that it almost qualified as a separate room. Large cushions with multi-coloured sequins and beads embroiled into their elaborate designs sat on the bed that lay in the centre of the room, reflecting the morning sunlight that shone through the open doors to the balcony and shimmered like incandescent fish scales.

And all this was nothing compared to the grandeur of her cousin's rooms, or so she had been told. Based on the descriptions of Sersie Indoran's room, the Emperor himself could have bedded there in complete comfort with all the extravagance of his own room back in Cyrodiil.

Ignoring the sounds of strife wafting upwards to her room, for her aunt and uncle were always in conflict with one another that it was hardly unusual, Irvsie shuffled her way to the door where the servant's bell hung. She held her hands out before her, making sure that she didn't run into anything untoward. Though she'd made this journey every day since she was a little girl, and had yet to run into any hitches on the way, it never hurt to be cautious.

Especially because she was blind.

 _ **CRASH!**_

The sound of something shattering on the floor below made Irvsie startle. Curiously, she pressed her pointed ears to the wood of her door to listen closely.

"Ravil Indoran, you are truly a despicable mer!" the shrill voice of Irvsie's aunt rang out below. "To sell your own niece to a Telvanni mage – and not just any Telvanni mage, but _**that**_ one… it's utterly unthinkable!"

"Silence! It is already done. The reply is sent, and all that remains is the wedding itself."

Varilsie spat in disgust, "And for what? So you can increase your status amongst those that already respect you?"

"I mean to be First Councillor!"

"To Oblivion with your ambitions! I care only for my niece, and I will not let you hand her over to a mer of Telvanni ilk!"

"Would you prefer that we hand over our own daughter in her place then?"

Varilsie gasped in horror. "No! Of course not, but-"

"She is not my daughter." Ravil intoned coldly. "Indeed, it is only through my benevolence that she permitted in my home and not cast out on the streets with the scum of Dunmer society where she belongs."

"But he is so old! And he is cruel! They say that he uses people in his experiments; that he consorts with the powers of Oblivion and the Daedra." Varilsie's voice trembled in hysterics. "And that house! She's blind for Azura's sake! She won't last in such a cutthroat, lawless house. You know what the Telvanni are like."

"It cannot be helped. He will give me what I want, and in return I will give him what he wants- a pretty wife and indemnity from Redoran law."

"And have you told Irvsie of your plan for her, how you intend to gamble with her life and her happiness for the privilege of saying that you have connections to the greatest – and most insane – mage in Morrowind?"

The sneer was audible in Ravil's voice. "No. The girl knows her place. She knows her purpose here and my opinion of her. She will do as I say because she owes me everything. Mad as the wizard may be, he is highly respected for his mastery of the arcane. I know that the council would not be trying to evict him if they didn't know that he has another citadel in Sadrith Mora. This wedding will increase our family's status beyond belief, and when the time comes, I will be chosen as the successor of the First Councillor."

Varilsie's voice dropped in volume but the hesitation in her next sentence was distinct. "If this is some misguided act of retribution because of what her mother did to you, then-"

"ENOUGH!" The sound of skin striking flesh perpetrated the air, followed by viscous stillness. Irvsie's heart leapt into her throat as she waited for one of her relatives to break the quiet.

In a low, dangerous tone, Ravil Indoran did just that. "I will not allow you or anyone else to stand between me and my goals. The girl will go to the Telvanni, and there is nothing, no words that you can say, no action that you can perform that can gainsay me."

A sickening silence followed. Irvsie held her breath in fear, anxiety and anticipation warring for dominance in the pit of her stomach.

Determined to have the final word, Varilsie hissed venomously, "You are truly the most contemptable mer in all of Nirn. Azura curse you, and Azura curse the day I met you," before turning on her heels and marching away. From the echo produced by the tapping of her heels on the stone floor, Irvsie deduced that she was coming up the great stone staircase to her room.

Having heard all there was to hear, Irvsie pulled her ear away from the door and rubbed her eyes comfortingly.

Much of what she'd heard caused her worry. Was this Master Neloth truly as bad as her aunt made him out to be? Would he treat her as poorly as her uncle did at present?

Irvsie shook her head and laughed. Though she had heard little of the mer she was to marry aside from his incredible skill with the arcane arts and her aunt's misgivings about his character, she felt that she had little to worry about in terms of her treatment at his hand. He had singled her out from every womer in Morrowind, had he not? Surly this spoke volumes of her worth to him. She would not be regarded as an unwanted urchin in his house, she was sure of it. And besides, her aunt had never met him. Of all she knew it could all just be vicious gossip, a smear campaign designed by his enemies to damage his reputation.

She waited patiently by the door for her aunt to knock.

When she did, Irvie opened the door and bid her welcome. They embraced affectionately before Irvsie stepped aside to let her in.

"Forgive me for being late in coming to you this morning." Varilsie Indoran sighed tiredly, shutting the door gently behind her.

"There is nothing to forgive aunt." Irvsie said, placing one of her hands on her aunt's arm comfortingly. They both knew that Irvsie had heard all that had transpired. It was pointless to lie to a womer as perceptive as Varilsie. "Did he hit you hard again, aunt?"

"No, little one. There isn't even a mark this time." Irvsie was just as perceptive as her aunt. The words came out too quickly for the truth, but Irvsie didn't push the issue. Varilsie's pride had already been wounded enough for one day. While Irvsie remarked on how pleased she was to hear it, Varilsie led her to the vanity and seated her upon a stool. She faced the mirror even though she could not see herself in it and her aunt stood behind her.

"May I also have the liberty of assuming that you know of your engagement then?" Varilsie asked, taking Irvsie's brush and running it gently through Irvsie's long hair like she did when her niece and children were young. Irvsie almost swooned- having her hair combed so tenderly was one of her life's greatest joys.

"Yes, aunt. And I know why uncle has sanctioned it: he wishes to be rid of me."

To this, Varilsie muttered something unpleasant under her breath, and though Irvsie heard it plainly with her sharp hearing, she said nothing in response. A heavy silence fell over them, pieced only by the sound of hair gliding through the bristles of her comb.

Irvsie clasped her hands tightly to prevent herself from rubbing her eyes. It was a nervous tick that had often got the better of her in her childhood, and even now as an adult when she was troubled the urge to rub resurfaced.

For all her life, Irvsie had believed that she would remain unwed and reliant on her uncle and aunt's generosity until the day they died, when she would be passed from Indoran heir to Indoran heir until **she** died.

It was the Redoran way that a wife should be as capable as her husband. Independence, chastity and obedience were the cornerstones of the perfect Redoran womer. No noblemer of their house was going to invest time or resources into a wife that was 'damaged', regardless of how pretty her face was. It appeared that this inhibition was not shared by the nobles of house Telvanni. Unless…

"My betrothed… he is aware of my blindness, then?" she inquired uneasily.

"Of course, little one. Your uncle was quick to make that information known in their communications." Varilsie added spitefully.

"And he still chooses me for a bride?" Irvsie said in disbelief.

"Indeed, little one." Relief unfurled in Irvsie's stomach like a flower.

"Then I am honoured to be the Telvanni's bride," She stated truthfully. "I am pleased that he was able to see my blindness yet not be deterred by it. Surely such an honourable and generous mer is worthy of being married into our family?"

Varilsie paused in her brushing to say monotonously, "Indeed, little one. Though the honour is all ours. The Telvanni is the arch magister of his house, and the greatest mage to grace our nation. He ranks far above us in the social hierarchy."

Irvsie gasped in astonishment. The arch-magister? And the greatest mage in Morrowind? She had not been privy to this titbit of information before now. "Then this match is weighed heavily in our favour," she stated in bewilderment, a nervous fluttering erupting in the pit of her stomach. "And to think, I am considered a lesser wife than the rest of Morrowind due to my disability."

To this, Varilsie remained silent.

"Why are you so opposed to the match, aunt?" Irvsie couldn't help but ask. "Surely it is not because of rumours that are circulating about my betrothed?

"Rumours?!" Varilsie said sharply, ceasing the soothing strokes of her brushing. "What rumours have you heard?"

"Only what you have said to uncle this morning before you came to me." Irvsie blushed in shame. "Forgive me, aunt. I-I hadn't meant to eavesdrop on the two of you. Only, I heard something break, a-and I was worried something awful might've been happening. I couldn't help hearing what I'd heard."

Varilsie heaved a sigh. "You are forgiven, niece. I often forget how sharp your ears have become in the absence of your sight." She left Irvsie at the vanity while she rummaged through her niece's wardrobe for a gown for her to wear.

"In truth, young one, I know not what to think." Varilsie answered honestly. "I know not if there is veracity in the claims made about the mer. What I do know is that the Telvanni house have a reputation for deeds and practices that are considered foul and dishonourable to us Redoran. The leaders of the house even more so. But, perhaps it is all a falsehood conjured by those who wish them ill? Regardless, his note claims that he is quite taken with you, and if there is any veracity in that, then you will not come to any harm. "

Irvsie nodded sagely, taking in her aunt's words. It was as she herself had thought, and in her heart, she keenly hoped her aunt was right. But, one aspect of the arrangement still troubled her…

"When uncle said the wizard wanted 'indemnity from Redoran law,' what did he mean? And what was all that talk of eviction?"

A pause, quickly followed by a reassurance. "It's nothing, little one. Your uncle doesn't know as much as he thinks he does."

The answer was not as satisfying to Irvsie's curiosity as she had hoped, but it made no difference to her. She trusted her aunt, and if she said that there was nothing to worry about, she believed it without question.

Varilsie returned from the wardrobe carrying a gown in her arms. She held it out for Irvsie to run her hands over the cloth

"Is this my silver gown? The one with the tiny flowers embroidered into the fabric?" Irvsie asked in confusion. It couldn't be. That was her best gown, made by the best tailor in Blacklight with the most opulent, luxurious fabric available to her family, which she had yet to find an occasion grand enough to wear it. Maybe if the emperor himself paid her a visit…

"It is, little one." Varilsie confirmed with a smile in her voice. "Your most beautiful gown."

"B-but why? What's the occasion?"

"Haven't you been paying attention? You're getting married!"

Irvsie choked back a cry. "Right now?!" She exclaimed in alarm.

"Of course not!" Varilsie chuckled fondly. "But every bride needs a wedding dress, which is what we shall acquire today."

At Irvsie's uncomprehending expression, Varilsie elaborated. "We are headed to the tailors to have you outfitted for your wedding, and only the best fabrics and designs will suffice for the future Lady of Tel Mithryn and Tel Naga. This gown is to set a benchmark – a standard to uphold, to conquer."

The gown was simply splendid to behold. It consisted of a silver, silken blouse and petticoat and a sheer sari that was the same colour, only with dainty blue flowers embroidered into the delicate material. Varilsie, with expert hands garnered from centuries of practise, pleated and tucked the sari into Irvsie's petticoat, then slung the remaining extravagance over her shoulder. The effect transformed Irvsie from a girl just woken up to a queen ready to rule her country… or a lady ready to lead her husband's house.

"These garments will be as rags compared to what you will wear as the wife of the Telvanni leader," Varilsie said dreamily as she slid matching earrings into Irvsie's piercings, no doubt imagining herself in similarly extravagant gowns from her youth.

"In addition to your wedding dress, we will also be commissioning a new wardrobe for you; one that denotes your status as one who lives in the upper echelons of society."

"Aunt! I cannot accept this." Irvsie cried in astonishment. "I cannot ask you to pay for all these things for me!"

"The Telvanni hasoffered to pay any expense. As long as you are to be his, you shall want for nothing – those where his words." Varilsie explained.

Irvsie flushed with pleasure at the words. They were so quixotic and sweet, like they had come straight from the pages of one of the romance novels she had read to her at night. How could her aunt find qualm with the Telvanni's intentions when he said and provided such wonderful things for her?

Once Irvsie had her shoes on her feet and her aunt had tied her hair back into an elaborate twist, they were ready to leave the Indoran manor and venture into Blacklight's bustling market district. Together, arm in arm, they left Irvsie's room and descended down the great staircase that lead to the vestibule.

"My, my! Aren't we all dressed up," a sneering voice taunted from behind. Irvsie felt Varilsie tense through the contact of their arms. Irvsie too, almost shuddered in revulsion. It figured that Ravil Indoran would arrive just in time to ruin the good mood of both the womer, as was his habit.

"Ravil." Varilsie said stiffly. "How is it that you always appear exactly where you're not wanted?"

Irvsie cringed at her aunt's daring.

Ignoring his wife's jab, Ravil addressed both the womer haughtily. "Where do you think you are going, dressed as you are and linked arm in arm. It looks almost… conspiratory."

"We're going to have my wedding dress made, uncle." Irvsie said hurriedly, fearing the outcome if her Aunt interjected first. At least by speaking honestly she could ease her uncle's paranoia.

"I see… so you told the little wench our plans for her?" He addressed Varilsie, brushing Irvsie off in his typical way – by pretending she didn't exist.

"She did not need to be told. Half of Nirn knows by now, I'm sure. And the true reasons behind it." Varilsie bit back spitefully.

Ravil's temper hung by a fraying rope to begin with, but at the first reiteration of their earlier argument, the rope snapped. "Watch your tongue, womer, lest I decide to have it removed!" He bellowed with such ferocity that Varilsie was immediately stunned to silence. "And as for you girl," he addressed Irvsie coldly, "Follow me. I would have words with you when there isn't a poisonous snake coiled around your arm."

Without question, Irvsie untangled her arm from her aunt's and immediately proceeded to make her way to her uncle's study – the site where all their 'discussions' occurred. Her uncle fell in step behind her, clutching the junction of her neck and shoulder with an unrelenting grip as though to guide her, even though he knew that she was capable of leading herself through the Indoran manor's twisting halls.

Ravil's study was an elephantine room, with large imposing furniture designed to make people feel small. Whenever Irvsie sat in one of his chairs she felt like the cushions were going to swallow her up whole. Fortunately she had little experience sitting on them, as Ravil preferred her to stand before him when he addressed her, like one of the servants. It was perpetually cold in the room as well, and Irvsie shivered as she crossed the threshold. Once inside the room, Ravil locked the door behind them and interrogated her almost immediately.

"What did your aunt tell you about the marriage? What lies has she poured into your ears?"

Bewildered, Irvsie stuttered. "I-I don't understand…? I'm to be married to the mage who asked for my hand. That is all!"

Ravil seized her in an inexorable grip, his long nails puncturing her arm like bird talons. "Liar!" He snarled, giving her a rough shake for good measure. "I know that the witch has told you more. What did she tell you about the reasoning behind this marriage? I will find out, one way or another!"

Terrified to the point of tears, Irvsie sobbed. "Only the truth! The mage asked for me. He thinks me beautiful!"

Ravil chuckled mirthlessly, a dark, unsettling sound. "So naïve… so stupid, just like your dead mother, may her soul rot in Oblivion forever." A chill ran down Irvsie's spine. Whenever Ravil brought up the topic of her mother it never ended well for her, though Irvsie never knew why he hated her so that he mete out punishment on her only child. "I ought to beat you for her insolence, but I can hardly send you to your new husband with black and blue marks all over your face, can I? I'll leave all future beatings to him."

Irvsie breathed shaky sigh of relief.

Ravil continued. "It appears that your aunt is not as stupid as I supposed. Consider yourself exceptionally lucky, girl. Now thank me, show me how grateful you are that I have bestowed this blessing upon you."

"Thank you, uncle, for all your kindness towards me. I am undeserving of such generosity."

"Indeed, you are unworthy. But as it so happens, I also benefit from this match. One day I **will** be the First Councillor of Blacklight, and this marriage may just be the means by which I ascend to that office."

Suddenly Ravil snatched her face and drew it close to his so that her ear was pressed close to his lips. The air was thick with tension, the only sounds filling the unbearable silence where Irvsie's trembling breath and the sound of her heart beating in her ears. Her nerve endings tingled expectantly, every muscle in her body was poised waiting for something, anything, to happen.

"I will warn you only once: should you do anything, _anything_ at all to jeopardise this marriage and give the Telvanni reason to divorce you, you will rue the day of your birth. Because I swear if you do, if you ruin this opportunity for me, I will mutilate your face beyond recognition or repair so that no one will think you beautiful every again. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Good." He released her chin and Irvsie was released from the spell of his malevolence. "You are to be married by the end of the week. Make sure your aunt knows."

"Yes uncle."

"Now get out. Our business is done."

Irvsie did not have to be told twice. She was out of the study and headed eagerly to where she had left her aunt before she could even comprehend her actions. Before she made it to the vestibule she paused to regain her composure. It would be disastrous if her aunt saw her in such as state, Irvsie truly believed she would fly into hysterics if she came back to her in the throes of a panic attack.

Irvsie leaned against a wall, trying to rein in her haggard breathing. A sense of ominousness had taken root deep in her stomach. Her arm and face stung where Ravil had touched her, and undoubtedly there would be red marks that would need a few minutes to fade into nothing.

She knew something bigger was at play here, something more than just an old mer taking a fancy to a young maiden. Ravil's words had all but confirmed this, and for some reason that Irvsie could not fathom, he aunt was trying to protect her from it. It was confusing, frustrating and beyond her understanding. In the space of one conversation, Irvsie felt he entire life being uprooted and cast into deep, unfathomable depths – even more so than when Varilsie broke the news of her engagement to her that morning. As to whether or not there would be a light at the end of the tunnel, a silver lining at the end of this, time had yet to tell.

At present there was only one thing of which she was unshakably certain: Irvsie had never felt so willing to be taken away from her home by a stranger until now.


End file.
